


a little less conversation

by alotofthingsdifferent



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Friends to more, M/M, Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 00:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5805592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/pseuds/alotofthingsdifferent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendan’s always had a big mouth, is the thing. This is just the first time Nate’s considered finding a way to shut him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a little less conversation

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know, ok? They have a height difference and then that stupid Habs "whack-a-mole" thing came out and SOMEONE on Twitter pointed me to other Nate/Brendan fic and this happened.
> 
> What is becoming of my life.
> 
> note: Nate is pushy in this fic, but everything is 100% consensual!
> 
> Enjoy!

“Jesus, Gally, do you ever shut the fuck up?” Nate says, after the fifth time Brendan complains that “my moles aren't working!” The game is stupid, and he knows Brendan’s playing it up for the cameras, but he’s also not a graceful loser. 

“You can't say fuck,” calls an intern, and Brendan snorts, grinning up at Nate with that stupid, goofy smile he's always flashing. 

“Such a big mouth,” Nate mutters, and he means it, literally and figuratively. Brendan sticks the point of his tongue out between his teeth and grins again, and Nate has the sudden urge to get a hand on Brendan’s (very broad) shoulders and push him to his knees.

Brendan’s always had a big mouth, is the thing. This is just the first time Nate’s considered finding a way to shut him up.

He pushes the thought to the back of his mind and concentrates instead on beating Brendan at Whack-a-Mole for a third straight time. 

**

After that, Nate can’t keep his eyes from dropping to Brendan’s mouth whenever they’re in the same room. Or on the ice. Or in the showers after a game. (His eyes maybe drop to other places on Brendan’s body then, too, but he’s not telling.) It’s becoming a problem, and if Brendan wasn’t so clueless in general, Nate would probably have lot of explaining to do. 

“Yo,” Brendan says after practice one afternoon, dropping down in the space next to Nate’s stall. He knocks one bony knee against Nate’s, chewing loudly around a piece of gum. “You wanna eat?”

Nate pulls a face and makes a concentrated effort to not look at Brendan’s mouth. “You’re gross,” he says instead, leaning down to tie his shoes. He can see the upward curve of Brendan's smile in his peripheral, and he swallows, keeping his eyes down.

“Yeah, I know, I’m gross, I stink, you can’t stand being around me. You wanna eat?”

Nate pauses, considering. “Whatever,” he concedes. Maybe watching Brendan scarf down a sandwich and chew with his mouthful will break whatever spell Nate’s fallen under. “But you’re buying.” 

**

(It doesn’t work. Brendan licks a smear of mayo from the corner of his lip, and Nate has to excuse himself to the bathroom before he reaches across the table to touch.)

 

**

“Ohhhhh, BOOM!” Brendan shouts, pumping one fist in the air, grinning at Nate with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.It’s an off night, and when Brendan shoved at his shoulder after skate that morning and invited him over for dinner and video games, Nate found himself agreeing before his brain got it together enough to say no. Brendan’s Habs are up 4 on Nate’s Ice Caps, and Brendan waves his controller in Nate’s direction tauntingly. “Hatty for B Gally!”

“Oh my god,” Nate groans, running one hand down his face. Brendan is insufferable. He’s cocky and annoying, and when his tongue peeks out from the corner of his grin, Nate has had enough. He swats Brendan’s hand from where it’s still wiggling the remote at him and grabs Brendan’s jaw in one hand, just this side of rough. “Do you ever just --” he says, swallowing around the gruffness in his voice. Brendan’s gone stock still, and there’s a visible line of tension in his shoulders that makes Nate think maybe he should drop his hand, sock Brendan in the leg, and turn his attention back to the game.

Instead, he drags the pad of his thumb over Brendan’s lower lip, watches the way the blood rushes to the surface, and is suddenly consumed with the thought of sinking his teeth into Brendan’s skin. Brendan swallows audibly, and Nate’s still cupping his jaw when he manages, “Just what, Beau?” His voice is shaky, but Nate still recognizes the challenge in his tone.

“Just shut the fuck up,” Nate says, dangerously quiet, and he curls his fingers around Brendan’s chin, shaking him a little. There’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flash of a smile in Brendon’s eyes, and Nate’s gaze drops to his mouth again.

“I dunno, Nate,” Brendan says, his jaw moving in Nate’s grip. “What’s in it for me?”

Nate make a startled sound in the back of his throat -- that’s the last thing he expected Brendan to say -- and Brendan grins again, the tip of his tongue touching Nate’s thumb when he licks his lower lip. 

“You’re such an asshole,” Nate says, through gritted teeth. This is a bad idea, this is a _really_ bad idea, but fuck if he doesn’t want to push Brendan back on the couch and straddle his chest. 

“What’sa matter, Beau?” Brendan says, his fingers circling Nate’s wrist. He tugs gently, then uses his grip to bring Nate’s fingers to his mouth, puckering his lips against Nate’s fingertips. “Think you can’t win?”

Nate huffs, his natural reaction to any of Brendan’s ridiculous taunts, but his dick is filling in his jeans even as he rolls his eyes. “Please,” Nate says, dropping his hand to the side of Brendan’s neck, his thumb tracing the line of Brendan’s collarbone. “I’m twice your size, you wouldn’t have a chance.”

And then Brendan breaks into that big, stupid smile, waggles his eyebrows, and _winks_ , and Nate breaks. Brendan never sees it coming, but by the time Nate’s wrestled him to the floor, his thighs on either side of ribs, they’re both breathing heavily. “Damn,” Brendan mumbles. “Didn’t think you had it in you. You’re always trying so hard not to look at me, I figured you’d never make a move.”

Nate feels his cheeks heat up, and the back of his neck goes hot when Brendan flashes a slow, lazy grin. “I’m right, huh? You wanna get all up on --”

Brendan’s eyes go a little wide when Nate covers his mouth with one hand, enough pressure to feel the press of Brendan’s teeth against his palm. “Shut. _Up_ ,” Nate whispers, and Brendan blinks once, then again when Nate pulls his hand away. His mouth is still half open, but he doesn’t say a word, and Nate braces himself with a hand on either side of Brendan’s head and kisses him.

If Brendan’s startled, he doesn’t act it, and Nate really shouldn’t be surprised. Brendan’s always greedy when it comes to things he wants -- he’ll snatch the last slice of pizza from the plate the minute he gets even an inkling that Nate’s going to go for it -- and any doubt Nate had about Brendan’s feelings for him disappears when Brendan gets a firm grip on the back of his neck to pull him closer, his mouth opening easily under Nate’s. 

But that’s not how this is gonna go. Nate’s spent too many weeks imagining all the ways he could shut Brendan up to let Brendan run the show. 

He bites at Brendan’s lower lip, tugs it between his teeth while he pulls away, and Brendan whimpers, shifting his hips while he squirms under Nate’s weight. “C’mon, what are you doing, we just got started,” Brendan complains. He pulls at the hem of Nate’s shirt and tries to sit up, but Nate gets a hand on his chest and pushes him back down, shaking his head at Brendan’s sound of complaint. “Come _on_ , man, I’ve been wanting to do this forever, why you making me wait?”

Brendan swipes his tongue over his lower lip, and Nate presses his thumb into the hollow of Brendan’s neck. “Stop talking,” he says, and Brendon cracks a smile, waggling his eyebrows obnoxiously. 

“What, you don’t want me to dirty talk you, Beau?” he teases, walking his fingertips up Nate’s thick thighs. “You don’t want me to tell you what I want you to -- “ 

Lightening-quick, Nate grabs Brendan’s wrists, pushing his arms up over his head and holding him there. Brendan flexes his fingers into fists, but that’s the only move he makes. Nate hovers over him, their noses almost touching, and Brendan’s eyes are dark as night. He’s holding his breath, like he’s waiting for Nate’s next move. “No,” Nate says, quiet. “I want you to shut. Up.”

Brendan wriggles in Nate’s grip, breathes out, and meets Nate’s eyes. The corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s trying not to smile, before he whispers, “Make me.”

Nate swallows hard, searching Brendan’s eyes for any sign that this is a joke, that this isn’t ok. All he finds in Brendan’s gaze is heat, and when he sits back, the denim of his jeans tight around this thighs, Brendan leave his arms crossed above his head at the wrists. The sleeves of his shirt are bunched around his armpits, leaving the bulges of his biceps visible, and Nate slides the tips of his fingers over the muscle, just barely touching the hair underneath Brendan’s arm. Brendan turns his head to the side and lets out a muffled giggle. His muscles flex, and Nate has to try not to laugh -- Brendan’s ticklish, and if he wasn’t so intent on pulling his dick out and getting it in Brendan’s mouth, he’d take advantage of that.

Maybe next time.

The volume on the TV is turned down, but Nate can hear the quiet buzz of music in the background. Brendan’s chest is rising and falling a little faster, and he shifts his hips at the sound of Nate pulling his belt loose and easing his zipper down. He tracks the way Brendan’s eyes fall to his dick when he gets it out, giving it a few quick strokes and spreading the wetness leaking from the tip down his length. 

He shuffles forward until his thighs are on either side of Brendan’s head and takes a minute to look at Brendan’s mouth. His lower lip is puffy and red from where he’s been chewing on it, and he’s licking at the corner of his mouth again, a habit Nate’s noticed he can’t seem to break. Brendan’s Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, and Nate’s so close he can feel the warm air of Brendan’s breath on his cock when he breathes out. 

He grips the base of his dick and touches the head to the corner of Brendan’s mouth, drags it along his lower lip, back and forth and back again, and when the tip of Brendan’s tongue sneaks out, Nate groans. “Fuck,” he says, and there’s that hint of a smile in Brendan’s eyes again. “ _Fuck,_ Gally, your mouth --”

The words get stuck in his throat when Brendan lifts his head just enough to close his lips around the tip of Nate’s dick, and Brendan quirks an eyebrow when their eyes lock, an invitation if Nate’s ever seen one. Nate pushes forward, and Brendan’s mouth opens easily around him, hot and wet and everything Nate knew it would be. Brendan drops his head back to the floor, and Nate follows, watching his cock disappear down Brendan’s throat.

The sight of Brendan’s perfect red mouth wrapped around his dick is almost too much, and he has to pull back, close his eyes while Brendan laps at his slit. His arms are still crossed above his head, and he hasn’t taken his eyes off of Nate. Nate notices the slight twitch of his fingers, like he’s doing all he can not to reach out and touch, and he rocks his hips forward again, starting a slow, easy pace, fucking into Brendan’s mouth with more intent now. 

“Look at you,” Nate manages, cupping Brendan’s jaw in one hand, thumbing at the corner of his mouth where it’s wet with spit. He traces the line of Brendan’s throat with his fingertips, holds still with his cock buried there until Brendan’s eyes start to water. He pulls out quickly, and when Brendan gasps, Nate hovers for a moment, afraid he’s taken it too far, pushed too much. But Brendan lifts his head again, chasing Nate’s dick like he’s starved for it. When he moans, Nate feels it down to his toes, and they curl when he falls forward, bracing his hands next to Brendan’s. 

He hesitates for a second before reaching for Brendan’s wrists, uncrossing them and lacing their fingers together. Brendan squeezes, and Nate feels a rush of fondness for him, so much so that it makes him flush with more than just arousal. For all Brendan’s annoying habits and loud mouth, Nate really does _like_ him, and he has to push the thought aside before he pulls his dick out of Brendan’s mouth and kisses him senseless. 

He’s brought back to the moment by Brendan pushing against his hands, and when he looks between them, watching the slow pump of his hips as he fucks Brendan’s mouth, Brendan raises his eyes and pushes again. 

He’s asking to touch, Nate recognizes, and he gives a quick nod, letting go of Brendan’s hands. They immediately go to the backs of Nate’s thighs, his fingertips digging into taut muscle before moving upward, palms sliding over the curve of Nate’s ass. Brendan squeezes ones, then urges Nate forward, and when their eyes meet again from where Nate’s braced above Brendan’s head, he lets his eyes fall closed and gives Brendan what he wants.

What they both want, really.

Brendan’s eyes are watering, spit dripping from the corners of his mouth while Nate fucks his face, but when he tries to slow up, give Brendan a chance to breathe, Brendan just digs his fingers into Nate’s ass and pulls him closer, taking control in the only way he can. Nate goes with it, follows Brendan’s lead, and before long, his thighs are burning, the familiar hint of an orgasm building in his balls. 

“Brendan,” he pants, his thighs trembling. Brendan makes a sound low in his throat, and Nate curses under his breath. He can feel the beads of sweat dripping from his hairline, and his heart is hammering in his chest. “Gally, I’m gonna -- _fuck_ , can I come on your face?” He says it so quickly that he’s not sure Brendan even heard, and he’s almost embarrassed at how badly he wants Brendan to say yes.

Brendan answers by pushing at Nate’s hips, a hint that Nate quickly takes. He sits back on his heels, keeping his weight off Brendan’s chest the best he can, and wraps his fingers around his cock. It’s wet from Brendan’s mouth, dripping at the head, and it only takes a few quick strokes before Nate’s coming, stripes of white over Brendan’s chin, his cheekbones, and his pretty red mouth.

Before he can stop himself, his threading his fingers through Brendan’s hair, thumbing gently at his temple. Brendan’s eyelids flutter before falling closed for just a moment, and when he opens them again, he grins that grin that Nate’s finally realized is actually one of his favorite things about him.

“You gonna clean this up, or am I gonna sit here with your jizz on my face all day?” Brendan asks, and the roughness in his voice makes Nate go warm all over. 

“It was so nice not to hear you jawing for a while,” Nate teases, thumbing at Brendan’s lower lip. Brendan kisses the pad of Nate’s thumb, and Nate leans in, using the hem of his shirt to clean Brendan’s face. Brendan grins at him again, his mouth dropping open when Nate reaches behind him to cup Brendan’s dick through his pants. 

He’s hard under Nate’s palm, and Nate slides down his body, rucking up Brendan’s shirt around his ribs and pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to his belly. When he pops the button on Brendan’s jeans, Brendan sits up a little. 

“Do I have to be quiet?” he asks, lifting his hips so Nate can work his pants down. 

Nate grins up at him, savoring the way Brendan gasps when Nate’s lips brush the head of his dick. “Nah. You can be as loud as you want.”


End file.
